No. 5/100 100-word short stories for my 100 follower celebration! (And May the Fourth be with you.)
The question echoed down grey corridors, bouncing against the soulless stone walls that had watched over the castle for eternity. But perhaps not for much longer.
It was whispered by the slaves toiling in the fields, the servants running to and fro. They could hear the words as if the walls were repeating the half-hopeful, half-dreadful question for anyone to hear.
It plagued the Queen’s nightmares, constricted her conscience, and kept her pacing constantly around her chambers. Every report received from the outskirts of her ever so carefully controlled kingdom just made the words grow louder.
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